The Girl In The Window
by comeonbeetches
Summary: Christophe is a fashion designer living in New York. And he has a great view from his penthouse apartment of the woman in the opposite apartments. But is it really a woman?


Christophe DeLorne was a happy man. Extremely successful, his business doing well, he had one of the most beautiful views of New York from both his office and apartment, and to top it all off, the gorgeous woman who lived across from him was walking about her apartment with only a towel on.

His tooth-and-nail business, which he put all his blood, sweat and tears into, was one of the biggest in the city. That's why he could afford such a beautiful penthouse apartment.

The bonus had been the girl. At that moment, she was brushing out her golden blond hair, standing by her windows - which were what her living room walls were made of - with a towel wrapped only about her waist.

Christophe only wished the building was closer, so he could get a more "detailed" picture of her. But, as it was, he could only see blond hair, fair skin, and the shock of white covering her lower half.

His favourite suit was clean and had just recently been pressed by his secretary. He had once considered her for a date or two, but recently he'd been much too distracted and focused on the beauty across the way. Now his hair was perfectly primped and permed, and he felt utterly fantastic.

So maybe it was because he was so damned confident and optimistic that day, or perhaps it had been sheer impulse, but he found himself at her door two days later, hand rapping against the deep mahogany.

As the door opened he uttered just one question.

"I was wondering, are you free this evening?"

His words nearly died at his throat, but by then he was completely too far-gone to stop.

Because there, standing in the now open doorway, was a tall, blond, shirtless man.

Who was giving him the most scintillating and curious look.

Christophe sputtered and felt his knees nearly give out beneath him. Oh God, he'd probably offended this poor unsuspecting man. What a fool he was. How could he have not been able to tell female from male at that distance?

And then yet another surprise was bestowed upon him.

"You're Mr. DeLorne, are you not?" the man asked, his voice smooth and accented and not at all offended or disgusted. "Come on in. I was just getting dressed."

Christophe could see that and felt a little discomfort, but didn't want to appear rude. Either way, he found himself stepping lightly into the apartment. A thousand different apologies were running through his mind at that point. The blond man simply offered him a bemusing expression and a seat.

"Well, I don't see why not,"

Christophe whipped his head towards the man, who was standing at the kitchen island, scrutinizing a small notebook.

"Pardon me?" he asked. His eyes flicked to the shirt loosely resting on the other man's shoulders. The blond took one more quick look at the page and then tugged the sleeves onto his arms properly and began to button it up.

"I was accepting your invitation, granted that is was it was," he replied, lifting his eyes away from his hands to focus on the greatly bewildered man sitting on his chaise.

Christophe felt ridiculous. So he had just happened to end up at a gay man's door, believing it was a woman and asking him out on a date. Granted, he was one of the more attractive of the gay men he'd ever met. And probably the least flamboyant, considering he did work at a fashion company.

How on earth was he supposed to explain himself?

"How about dinner?" the man asked. Christophe opened his mouth.

Before he could answer the man smiled. "Great! Let's go."

The man continued to chatter, and all Christophe wanted to do was explain himself to this whirlwind of excitement. He learned his name at least.

Gregory Thorne. 21 years old. Working as a dentist in the city. Christophe was a little surprised to learn that Gregory's clinic was the one he went to. However, he had never seen him before. Christophe is pretty damn sure he'd remember a man such as Gregory.

The only parts where Christophe could cut in were when Gregory asked him something. And then he could barely even get a sentence in before Gregory responded to whatever he said in a flourish.

He was practically dragged into a cab and they were off to some restaurant.

"This is wonderful! I haven't gone out for at least 8 months. The last person I went out with, well, she couldn't keep up with a conversation and she left halfway through." Gregory laughed.

Okay, not gay, and Christophe wondered what his sexuality actually was. Also, now he doubted he could explain just that he had mistaken Gregory for a girl and had only been interested in the fact that "she" walked around in her apartment with no top on. It felt to superficial, and Christophe didn't want to be rude.

Maybe this evening would just run smoothly, they'd eat dinner, talk a bit about themselves and part for the evening. Christophe smiled. It's almost like they were just good friends catching up over dinner. And he couldn't bring himself to explain the misunderstanding. He wasn't quite sure why.

The cab stopped and Gregory leaned back - when had he leaned in so far? Christophe wondered - to look outside. His face lit up, and then his eyebrows came together, and he turned to Christophe.

"I do hope you like French food." he said, fiddling with his sleeve. Christophe laughed. Was his name not "Christophe"? He basically grew up on just that!

"Of course!" he replied. They got out and Gregory passed the cabbie a twenty. Then they headed for the entrance of Les Becs. Christophe rolled his eyes at the name, and followed Gregory.

"Table for two, please." Gregory said to the waitress at the door. She looked at both of them and smiled wide, grabbing two menus and escorting them to a secluded table with one lit candle. Very romantic. Christophe's stomach did a flip. Oh dear...

Gregory slid into his seat, and Christophe slid into the one opposite. "One white wine. Whichever you think is best." Gregory ordered sweetly. "Make it two." Christophe said. The waitress wrote it down and scampered away, eyes glowing.

Gregory tilted his head as he watched her leave. "What on earth was with her?" he asked, folding his hands on the table. Christophe shrugged. He preferred to clasp his hands on his lap.

"So, you work for one of the biggest fashion companies in New York, your own line in fact! That must be awfully busying."

Small talk. Always a safe route.

"Ah, yes, it can consume a lot of my time. It's nice to get nights off like this." he responded, nodding thoughtfully.

Gregory watched attentively, his eyes crinkling at the last bit.

"Your clothing is quite fantastic, I often get my shirts there. I love your use of bright, simple and professional styles for men. I can't count how many of your clothes I've gotten for my birthdays or Christmases." Gregory said, his hands expressively acting on their own while he talked.

"Sirs, your wine," the waitress announced. Christophe jumped a bit. When had she arrived?

She set them down and snapped straight up once more, notebook on hand. "Are you ready to order?" she beamed.

"Yes, I'll have a croque-monsieur, and a side of escargot." Gregory replied, menu open.

Christophe furrowed his brow and looked at Gregory with confusion.

He looked back with a grin. "What? Snails are surprisingly good!"

Christophe felt a laugh bubbling behind his lips, but he shook it off and turned to the ever-smiling waitress.

"I'll have a tortière. And a garden salad." he told her.

"Right away!" she chirped.

Christophe wouldn't be surprised if she actually paid the chef to make their orders before everyone else's. She was smitten with the two of them. Maybe she wanted to get in on a ménage à trois?

"Well she's got quite the peppy attitude. You think it's us?" Gregory asked, hands coming up to rest at his chin.

Their dinner was nice, and they mostly chatted about their work, or the ridiculous revolts happening in different countries, and other various boring things. And yet, Gregory and Christophe were never bored with the conversation.

"You certainly lasted better than my last date." Gregory commented as they were hailing a cab.

Right. It had been a date.

Why was it that the term no longer bothered Christophe?

And maybe they sat a bit closer than normal in the backseat?

And when they got to the apartment building and it was time to go to their respective apartments, which were in opposite directions, why was Christophe still tailing after Gregory?

"This was lovely, thank you for dinner," Gregory proclaimed, his hand hovering above the doorknob. "I hope we can chat again!"

Christophe faltered and, as though someone else had taken control of his body, he reached out and pulled Gregory into a kiss that caused him to see stars behind his closed eyes.

He could feel Gregory's fingers as they gripped his forearms, squeezing them like he could disappear at a moments notice. They were moving now, backing into the apartment.

Christophe knew how this was going to end, and for some reason it made him kiss Gregory with even more ferocity. He couldn't stop and he didn't want to.

Gregory stroked up Christophe's arms, dragging his nails along and sending shivers through Christophe's body. Christophe's breath faltered, puffs of hot air against Gregory's neck.

He pressed his mouth to the spot below Gregory's ear, and let his tongue slip out and taste Gregory. He could feel the tension in Gregory's body release in a stuttering motion at the touch, and his hands digging into Christophe's arms again.

"Can we take this somewhere else?" Gregory groaned hoarsely, pulling out of Christophe's grip and turned his eyes to a room just off the living area.

Christophe didn't want to move from where they were, content with continuing against the hallway wall. However, in retrospect, he decided a bed would cause fewer kinks in his body the next day.

They were practically racing to the door, pausing every few moments to pull another piece of clothing off or to kiss quickly before they were stumbling through the doorway and landing heavily on the bed. Christophe's knees were knocked from behind and Gregory was lying above him, straddling his waist and tugging at his tie, which had somehow managed to stay on while his dress shirt lay on the chaise in the living room.

When that was off it was their pants that were the next to go. Gregory pulled their zippers down, while Christophe's hands wandered below Gregory's waistband to grab at his ass and simultaneously grind up against Gregory.

Hands paused for a second and Gregory's head ducked down in a rasping sigh. He clearly was losing his inhibition, as was Christophe, with the amount friction. That small press of their unfortunately clothed erections was enough to get through to him, and when Christophe saw Gregory's eyes again they were filled with a wild fervour.

His hands were no longer as soft and yielding as they had been. And they sounds that emerged from that man's throat were becoming obscene.

"Touch me, dammit!" Gregory growled, dipping his tongue into the shell of Christophe's ear. His voice was dropping a couple octaves and had a gravely quality to it. To Christophe, it was the sexiest sound in the world. His dick thought so too.

Christophe ran his hands up Gregory's sides, digging his fingers into the sensitive skin. Gregory panted and leaned down to press their mouths together, bruisingly hard.

He was grinding his hips faster, too. The thoughts in Christophe's head swam and he couldn't make sense of anything besides touch and thrust and kiss.

"Too many layers..." he growled, tugging at the band of Gregory's boxers. They weren't slipping away easily, what with his pants still on. Gregory angled his hips, allowing Christophe to slide both his pants and underwear away. He gasped at the air on his bare skin, but Christophe's hands quickly replaced it.

Christophe flipped Gregory onto the bed to get his pants off too. Gregory reached up to help him, brushing Christophe's cock playfully and smirking at the gasp that followed.

They were both completely naked now, and Christophe pressed his body down on top of the blonde, feeling the slide of his cock with Gregory's. Had he known it would feel this good to be with a man, he would have started sooner.

"Don't come apart yet, Christophe." Gregory breathed, arching his body into Christophe's. The tease. If he didn't want this to be over quickly, then he should stop doing... that!

"Oh God..." Christophe whined, dragging his hands down Gregory's burning skin. Gregory lifted his mouth to Christophe's neck, letting his tongue slide over his jugular. He could feel Christophe's erratic pulse under his lips.

Gregory reached over to his bedside table, grabbing for the handle of the drawer. Christophe leaned over too, causing friction between their legs again, and he fought a convulsion as he opened the drawer. He found what Gregory had obviously been searching for, and he emptied a bit of the lube into his palm, warming it up with his fingers.

"Now slide them into me..." Gregory instructed, leading Christophe's hand between his thighs. Christophe's eyes lowered, following the path his hand was taking.

He felt his fingers press against Gregory's ass, and he was a little nervous pressing on. That is, until he heard Gregory's urgent moans and whispers of approval.

He inserted one finger in slowly, afraid it was hurting the blonde man. He saw a wince and tensed, ready to withdraw if Gregory said to. "Don't torture me... Keep going." the groan caught him by surprise. A second finger followed and a third. Gregory leaned into them, tilting his head back and exposing his neck.

He sighed and bore down on Christophe's fingers, who was marveling at the sight of the man unraveling before him. He turned Gregory's head to press a soft, chaste kiss to his lips.

"Ready?" he asked quietly. Gregory nodded, his eyes staring at - or more suitably into - Christophe. He removed the fingers, and replaced it at the entrance with his cock. Slowly he pushed up, entering Gregory at a devastating pace. He could see a twinge of discomfort in Gregory's expression, but his eyes showed encouragement.

Christophe gave an experimental push forward into Gregory, and felt a pang of joy when Gregory let out a small hiss of a "Yes..." He began to go a bit faster, holding Gregory gently and whispering meaningless words in comfort.

"You're doing wonderful, Christophe, keep going." Gregory smiled, draping his arms over Christophe's shoulders and placing kisses along his jaw. Christophe's thrusts went deeper and he asked Gregory if it was still alright.

Gregory moaned in response, his kisses turning into sucking down his jaw and neck. Christophe's eyes closed and he gripped Gregory tighter.

"I'm almost... almost there..." Gregory told him, pausing in his sucking to speak.

Christophe felt a tension forming in his lower abdomen and knew he wouldn't last much longer either. He went a bit faster, causing Gregory to gasp each time he thrust in.

"Christophe!" he cried, pressing his forehead to Christophe shoulder as he came. Christophe stroked his back as he rode through the aftershocks. When he could sit up again, Christophe was a little surprised that he didn't pull off.

"I want to feel you inside me." Gregory confessed, a shy smile touching his lips. Christophe continued to push into Gregory until he came too, his body shuddering as he clung to Gregory desperately.

"Hush, you're alright." Gregory soothed, running his fingers through Christophe's hair. Christophe looked up at the man underneath him, who was practically glowing from the experience.

"You're beautiful." he gasped, leaning forward to put his forehead against Gregory's. He gazed directly into his eyes, breath still fighting to return to a normal rhythm.

Gregory looked back in wonderment, before leaning it and kissing Christophe slowly, prying past his lips to press his tongue inside.

When he broke away, Christophe pulled out of him, laid him out on the bed then settled on top of him. Gregory's messy curls framed his face and he was staring at Christophe with bright blue eyes.

"You're just as gorgeous, you know. Don't think I can't see you from across the way, pacing about your apartment. I-" Gregory paused and averted his eyes, a flush settling in his cheeks.

"It feels like a dream, still, that you asked me to dinner. I'm still having trouble believing that this is real."

Christophe couldn't help but feel a bout of guilt at his words.

"Actually, when I came over here, I thought you had been a girl." he confessed. It was his turn now to avert his gaze.

"Honestly, I was about ready to confess in your apartment when I found out you were a man... But, I couldn't. I think it was you. If it had been anyone else, I probably would have left."

Christophe looked back at Gregory, who was watching him with a curious expression.

"You are different, you are exceptional. You're unlike anyone I've ever met, female or male. And if I haven't offended you, I was hoping for another date." Christophe finished lamely.

Gregory pushed Christophe off his chest and settled in a sitting position on the bed. Christophe felt a sense of dread at Gregory's actions, just before Gregory let out a laugh.

"Thank God for that! And here I was praying this wasn't a one-night stand." he giggled, his eyes shining.

Christophe sat down on the edge of the bed and stared, perplexed, at Gregory.

"So... You're not mad that I thought you were a woman?" he asked.

Gregory grinned and took Christophe's hands in his.

"No. Well, a little. But what outweighs that is the fact that you want to go out again!" Gregory replied, giddily.

Christophe joined him in laughter.

"Well, we should probably clean up." Gregory said after they stopped giggling.

"Want to join me in the shower?"

* * *

Christophe gave one final wave to Gregory before he closed the apartment door, a slip of paper clutched in his hand.

When he reached the door to his apartment, he took in the dark haired man waiting there, chatting furiously with a taller, longer haired man. His neighbours from downstairs. The dark haired man turned and a smug grin flashed across his face.

"Ah! There he is. You didn't come home last night. Any juicy news?" he crowed.

Christophe smiled good-naturedly and crossed his arms.

"Good morning, Damien. Pip. Yes, I did stay out pretty late, didn't I?" he replied, looking to each of them in turn.

"By the looks of it, you had a pretty good time with the blond in the Yardale Suites. Was she any good?" Damien asked.

Christophe sighed.

"It wasn't just about the sex-" A loud, mock gasp of horror from Damien, "we had a great connection. He took me to-"

Damien held up a hand, cutting Christophe off effectively.

"Did I just hear a 'he'?" he asked, tilting his head and frowning. Pip squeaked behind him.

Christophe opened and closed his mouth.

"Yes. The sexy blonde in the apartment across from me is a guy. And he's a wonderful kisser." Christophe mused.

Damien brought a hand to his mouth, turning to Pip and grinning from ear to ear. Pip looked back at him with a similar expression, and it appeared as if he was resisting the urge to scream aloud.

"We're not the only gay men in this area!" he smiled, holding his hands out to Damien.

Christophe had to roll his eyes at the pair of them.

"Just because I had sex with one guy doesn't exactly add me into the category of 'gay', I've enjoyed sex with plenty of women. Plus, it's New York. There's plenty of gay men about," he argued.

Pip nodded his head, while Damien pouted.

"You're a spoilsport, you know that?" he whined. "Well, what's his name?"

Christophe smiled at them.

"His name is Gregory." he began, opening the apartment door and inviting them inside.

* * *

"Any mail today?"

Christophe grabbed the tea towel from his shoulder and wiped his hands on it, moving towards the circular table by the window.

"Yeah, you got a letter from your mother." he said.

Gregory walked over and took the letter from his husband, opening it and reading its contents.

"She said she wants to come over for our anniversary dinner!" he exclaimed.

Christophe's mouth formed an 'o'.

"Then we have a lot of work to do before she comes over! This house is a mess." Christophe fussed.

Suddenly, the front door opened and shut and the sound of running feet got louder and louder.

"Papa!" a little girl cried, jumping into Christophe's arms, backpack, shoes and all.

Christophe held her tightly and looked her straight in the eye.

"Yes, what is it Emma?" he asked sweetly. Gregory came over to remove her backpack and shoes and then sat down and regarded her expectantly.

"We got our tests back today, from math, and I got perfect!" she beamed at her fathers.

Gregory gushed at her perfect score and Christophe twirled her around in the air.

Later, after they got their celebratory ice cream, Emma held her fathers' hands and swung between them while they walked through the park home.

Christophe looked over at Gregory in the light of the sunset, the light creating a halo out of Gregory's curls.

When Gregory turned his head to gaze back, Christophe's heart leapt in his chest.

"You're beautiful, Gregory." he sighed.

Gregory smiled brightly.

"And you're gorgeous. I love you more than anything," he said.

"I love you, too, Gregory. And I'll never stop loving you." he responded.

"What about me, daddies?" Emma piped up, looking between the two of them.

They looked down at her and laughed.

"We love you with more fire than a billion kajillion suns." Gregory replied.

"We love you more than there is space in the universe." Christophe added.

Gregory swung Emma up onto his shoulders and then took hold of Christophe's hand all the way back home.


End file.
